


Then One Foggy Christmas Eve

by GettingOverGreta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:19:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9040595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingOverGreta/pseuds/GettingOverGreta
Summary: Molly Hooper always dreamed of spending Christmas with Sherlock Holmes. She should have known it would involve the New Jersey State Police and stolen statuary.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dietplainlite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/gifts).



> An entry for dietplainlite's fan fiction challenge. Prompt was "pine trees and nutmeg."

One of the more embarrassing fantasies Molly had once entertained regarding Sherlock Holmes had involved Christmas, and had heavily featured mistletoe, mulled wine and the inappropriate use of a tree skirt...all of which occurred in a cozy, pleasantly snowed in cottage when she was feeling particularly indulgent. (She blamed her fondness for that Kate Winslet film.) A single Baker Street Christmas had utterly ruined that idea, as Molly had experienced Sherlock's complete and total disdain for the holiday.

No, this was not what she'd had in mind, when she had pictured Christmas in the snow with Sherlock Holmes. Molly Hooper was watching in dismay as snow continued to fall around them, not from the comfortable vantage of a country retreat or even a toasty London flat, but in a copse of pine trees in what Molly Hooper was prepared to declare the worst place on earth: New Jersey.

Fucking New Jersey. It was miserably cold, seemed to have an exclusive deal with the phenomenon of freezing rain, and for some inexplicable reason left turns were apparently illegal, which had nearly resulted in their deaths when Sherlock decided to make an abrupt u-turn.

"Sherlock, you can't think this is actually happening now. No art smuggler is going out in this weather to deliver goods. They could be damaged, for heaven's sake."

"The information was entirely accurate so far – we only narrowly missed him at Customs."

"And we've been on a wild goose chase for the last three days. The Jersey Devil will get us before we get him."

"Molly, you can't seriously believe – you're joking."

Molly nodded and tightened her scarf around her neck. She was prepared to argue for a return to their hotel for the night, when to her shock two sets of headlights appeared in the distance.

Sherlock Holmes had apparently avoided the naughty list this year.

Three hours later, Molly Hooper was pleased to see the last of the state troopers in Port Norris. She was exhausted, her energy fueled only by the Styrofoam cup of station house coffee while she waited for Sherlock to hash out custody of their back seat passenger, a hideous bronze stag. (Molly named him Rudolph. Sherlock was not amused.) Reaching his client was somewhat difficult, seeing as it was Christmas Eve and the man was traveling to his chateau in Switzerland or some other obnoxiously posh destination. Sherlock eventually triumphed, and they lugged the stag into the car with assistance from two troopers, one of whom slipped her a card to call if she had any trouble because "that guy is nuts."

Molly toyed with the radio while Sherlock drove, pleased when she found an all-Christmas station, to his utter distress.

"Stuff it," Molly growled. "It's Christmas Eve, Sherlock. And I'm in New Jersey." Her phone chimed, and Molly dug it out of her bag. "And now our flight's cancelled! Newark airport is iced over."

"Ah. That's fortunate, we certainly weren't going to make it, the airport's still two hours from here and we would never make it through customs with my client's property at any great speed."

Molly blinked. "You mean we were never going to be home on Christmas Day?"

"No. Why would that matter? It's not as though you had anywhere else to be."

Molly froze in her seat. Sherlock was right, of course – she didn't have any solid plans for Christmas, although she'd had a few invitations from friends, including the Watsons (which had been along the lines of please show up, we think Sherlock wants to give Rosie a chemistry set). Until Sherlock had presented the trip to the states she had assumed she'd be working most of the holiday. But somehow it still stung for him to point out that she didn't have any other celebrations planned.

Sherlock seemed oblivious to her silence for the rest of their drive. She stared out the passenger window as the thick forest gave way to occasional houses set back from the road, followed by darkened shopping centers and movie theaters with crowded car parks. Her stomach growled and she had a moment of wondering what it would be like to see Sherlock Holmes eat at McDonald's, because there weren't many options open at this time of night on Christmas Eve.

However, Sherlock continued to drive, until a neon covered, glowing building surrounded by some lorries and a few cars appeared ahead of them. Molly noted a slight smile on Sherlock's face, and he turned in the driveway and parked.

"I'm surprised they're open," Molly said quietly.

"They're Greek, Molly, they don't celebrate Christmas until January." He hopped out of the car, hurrying around to open her door to her surprise.

Must be Christmas, Molly thought to herself. A hot blast of air hit Molly's face as she walked into a tiny lobby with vinyl seats and gumball machines. A hostess smiled at her and told them to sit anywhere they wanted. Sherlock led Molly to a small, garland-bedecked booth in the corner where they could keep an eye on the car. A waitress appeared, introduced herself as Maria, and handed Molly a menu approximately the size of a phone book.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee?" Maria asked.  
"Please," Sherlock said, smiling in a way that Molly suspected was disarming until you actually got to know him.

"Do you have hot chocolate?" Molly asked.

"Of course, hon. You look like you could use it." She scribbled on her notepad and added," Just so you know, we're out of the chicken a la king. I'll be right back."

Molly had no idea what chicken a la king was, but what she did know was that she was hungry. The options were dizzying – the specials seemed like too much food, and she wanted something more comforting than a burger.

"I'd suggest something from the Greek Specialties section. This diner is supposed to be known for them." Molly looked up, but Sherlock's nose was already on his phone.

The waitress brought over Sherlock's coffee and a steaming mug of hot chocolate topped with an obscene amount of whipped cream. Molly ordered moussaka, which sounded a bit like a Greek lasagna, while Sherlock opted for a lemon chicken dish over spinach. Molly took a sip of her hot chocolate, and smiled to herself at the taste.

"Any word from your client?"

"Mmm. He asked if I could keep the stag for a few days. He figures it's safest with me."

"That'll be a bit of a struggle on the Tube," Molly said. Sherlock cracked a half smile at that, and she pulled out her own phone to send a text to Mary, explaining that they wouldn't be back in time for the festivities that night. Sliding her phone back into her bag, she watched as Sherlock proceeded to dump a large quantity of sugar into his coffee cup. He only took a few sips before his phone chimed. Sherlock glared at the screen and excused himself to go outside, where Molly saw him pacing a bit while actually talking on the phone.

"Your boyfriend, he is all right?" Maria reappeared, topping up Sherlock's nearly full coffee cup. "He looks...stressed."

"He's not my boyfriend. And I don't know, he doesn't really tell me things."

"Not your boyfriend? Too bad." Maria winked.

"Yeah. I'm just here since I have 'nothing better to do'." Molly sighed.

"On Christmas?"

Molly looked down at her cocoa. "He's not entirely wrong. I used to spend it with my dad, but he's –" she paused, stunned by a fresh wave of grief. The holidays always seemed to sneak up on her that way. "I usually just work," she finally said softly.

Maria frowned. "This isn't work?"

"No. Well not for me. Sherlock – he's working, I'm just – well I don't really know why I'm here except to get coffee and be a sounding board. It'd be so awkward to take the skull through customs, don't you know." Molly paused, noticing that Maria looked a bit more concerned than necessary. "Maybe forget I said that last bit."

"I'm – just going to check on your order." Maria disappeared into the kitchen as Sherlock returned from pacing around the car park outside, a whoosh of cold air seeming to emanate from his coat. He frowned at Molly.

"What's wrong?" He processed the scene going on around him, and his eyes narrowed. "Did something happen? Did she say something to you?"

"Nothing important," Molly said, largely addressing her mug of cocoa, although even she could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Molly." She gasped a little as Sherlock rested a cool hand on hers. She looked up, realizing that he actually looked concerned.

"It's nothing. Christmas is hard sometimes, that's all. I always miss my dad, and this year I even miss Tom, and then you reminded me that I'm not at the center of any family anymore. I'm just me, and every other day of the year I don't mind."

Sherlock's jaw dropped a little, and a brief moment of confusion seemed to give way to a small revelation.

"I believe I may have misspoken," Sherlock said, looking a little uneasy. "I said you had nowhere else to be but what I intended to say was that...we've spent more time together this year, since Rosie was born, and I assumed you would want to spend the holiday with us and the us includes me and it wouldn't really matter if we spent it in London or New Jersey." 

"I would have been thrilled to spend Christmas with the Watsons. And you, of course. But why did you take the case? Surely a few hours of Christmas wouldn't be that rough, even for you."

Molly had the odd thought that Sherlock suddenly looked rather sheepish. "It would have been...tolerable. However, I admit I hoped to have your exclusive company, and that would not have been easily found on such a hectic occasion."

"You wanted to spend time with – just me."

"Indeed, there are certain things that probably shouldn’t be expressed in front of practically everyone we know."

"Like –" Molly forgot what thought she might have been working on when Sherlock, in utter disregard for the table between them, lunged forward to kiss her, the lapel of his expensive jacket dragging through a mound of whipped cream. He started to pull away, and Molly grabbed said lapel to keep him there, gently stroking her tongue against his lower lip.

"Ahem." They both looked up to see Maria standing at their table, a tray of food resting on her arm.

"Sorry," Molly said shyly.

"Not your boyfriend, eh?" Maria replied with a wink. She left them to their dinner, and Molly's stomach quickly reminded her that hunger was currently the most important drive in the running at the moment. Libido could wait.

"I apologize if that was –"

"It was lovely," Molly said, trying not to sound quite as breathless as she felt. "But I will require further investigation after we eat."

Sherlock looked a bit pouty about food being necessary, but Molly dug into the moussaka, which was delicious – there was eggplant, tomato and cheese, and a spice she couldn't quite identify.

"Nutmeg," Sherlock said, before she could even ask. "My mother went through an unfortunate phase of attempting Greek cuisine after a trip. Her pasticchio was passable, her baklava was decidedly not."

"Well this is delicious." They ate in a more comfortable silence, until Sherlock's phone pinged again and he smiled with satisfaction.

"I called in a favor while I was outside. We'll have to drive down to Philadelphia but we should be home for Boxing Day. I'm sure Rosie will be just as happy to rip up some paper for you then."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Molly reached out again across the table to squeeze his hand.

There was a distinct lack of mulled wine and mistletoe, but Molly thought New Jersey might just win her over in the end.


End file.
